Untitled (for now)
by Little Lotte
Summary: American Josie Watercourt joins her impetuous cousin Adele on a trip to England, only to discover Adele in league with Monsiuer Chauvelin. Josie ends up in a fabulous masquerade, working along side the Scarlet Pimpernel and his friends. Unfinished, plea


Nervously I tapped the railing of the great ocean-going vessel. I hated boats, water and sailors; the trip from America had exceedingly long. This brief stop in Calais had been unexpected and unwelcome. I simply wanted to find myself on dry land again. The continuous rocking and rolling of the great tub on which my uncle had commissioned passage for Adele and I was enough to make a sailor dizzy. I had been fortunately blessed with a stomach that tolerated the sea, but a head that did not. I glanced up as I saw Adele round the deck with one of the new passengers. I shook my head; Adele was foolish. French men these days were not to be trusted, and this one looked exceptionally dangerous.  
  
As the pair approached I heard Adele's flighty laughter. "Oooh Cousin Josie!" She cried in her childlike voice. I turned, painting a bright smile on my face to hide my disapproving thoughts.  
  
"Adele! Darling!" I moved towards her, and kissed her cheeks in European fashion. Returning my greeting, she giggled.  
  
"There's someone I'd like you to meet Josie." Presenting the darkly dressed man next to her she said, "Monsieur Armand Chauvelin, chief agent to the Committee of Public Safety. Miss Josephine Watercourt, my cousin."  
  
Monsieur Chauvelin performed the prescribed elaborate bows, and I returned with the pretty curtsey I had been taught in finishing school. "A pleasure, monsieur," I said demurely. Although I was full of fiery and often impertinent thoughts, to all outward appearances I was as meek as a lamb. I had discovered quickly that an intelligent, outspoken young woman was not to be tolerated, and I had learned to keep my thoughts hidden.  
  
"Mademoiselle Watercourt, it is an honor." I quickly scanned the man from head to toe. He was completely swathed in black; the only other colors on his being were part of his tri-colored sash. He had deep worry lines in his face, and his stance was slightly tired, but his eyes were full of fire. I have never forgotten those eyes, a mysterious, indescribable pale color; full of hate, jealousy and bloodlust. A chill ran up my spine.  
  
My effervescent cousin broke in. "Monsieur Chauvelin is a very important man," she giggled. "He is a revolutionary and helps send traitors to the guillotine."  
  
"How nice," I muttered under my breath. Addressing Monsieur Chauvelin, I said, "Is it business or pleasure which calls you to England, Monsieur?"  
  
"A little of both, Mademoiselle," he said suavely. "As Mademoiselle Adele has been kind enough to inform me of your lodging plans, I hope to see very much of both of you."  
  
"And what is your business in a royalist country, Monsieur?" I asked impertinently. I shocked myself as much as anyone else. As I said, I am full of such thoughts, but I keep them to myself. In public I played the shy, rather flighty, sweet type that was respected by society. For the first time in as long as I had been playing the socialite, I had dropped my façade. It was too late to turn back now; my real self had been revealed to this revolutionary horror.  
  
The man was unfazed by my rather rude question. "I have come to catch a traitor, Mademoiselle," he returned sharply.  
  
"Oooh!! Intrigue," shrieked Adele, clapping her hands in a childlike manner. "I should love to help. I've never caught a traitor before."  
  
"Adele!" I reprimanded sharply. "This is none of your affair. Please recall that you are in England to meet your father's family and not aid murderous revolutionaries."  
  
Adele shot me a pouting look, and I sensed Monsieur Chauvelin's tension at my rash statement.  
  
Turning to Adele, he said, "Forgive me for causing such an uncomfortable scene. I shall take my leave of you. It would bring me great pleasure to see you again, Mademoiselle."  
  
As he stalked off to the other side of the boat, Adele turned on me. "How dare you?" she seethed. Adele is a curious mixture of child and viper. At nineteen she was an intelligent girl who read people like books. She could ascertain exactly what method of approach could be used to win a person's heart, and Chauvelin had been fully taken in. I seemed to be the only person with enough sense not to trust the little fool. And Adele hated me for it. "Citizen Chauvelin is a very important man, and very kind and attentive, and handsome to boot. How could you be so rude?"  
  
"Adele, I know all about your French sympathies, and your father asked me to keep you as far from Paris and revolutionaries as possible. You are a descendant of English nobility, and you have a duty to your heritage."  
  
Adele stamped her foot. "I've never heard anything so ridiculous in all my life! You know that story is one father uses to explain his cowardice in America's revolution. Besides, the revolutionaries are right! All men have certain rights, and there shouldn't be a king who abuses his power and the people." Adele glanced at me smugly.  
  
My temper was rising. "Adele, consider the fact that there isn't a king of France anymore. He lost his head to your foolish ideals. So have hundreds of others."  
  
"Well, if they're traitors to the human race, they deserve it." Adele turned her back on me, and flounced away, her blonde, shiny curls bouncing obstinately as she went. I shook my head. I could be in serious trouble if I showed up at Lord Hastings' door without his cousin. Yet there was very little I could do. Beneath her innocent smile and brainless prattle lay a vicious, self-serving, intelligent mind. In her own secretive way, Adele frightened me.  
  
The French horizon was shrinking rapidly now, and I turned my head towards England. I smiled; I had been born here. I had lived in England until my parents died when I was eleven. Then I had been sent to America to live with my aunt and uncle, Adele's parents. Finally, I was returning home. As a child, I had gone to school with Lord Hastings' sister Bernadette, and Mary Dewhurst and Caroline Ffoulkes. Those three girls had been my best friends. I hadn't heard from any of them in years. They were probably all accomplished young ladies with hundreds of beaus. I, on the other hand, had finished my schooling in America with Adele. It is not that American schools are bad, but it was simply not English enough for my hoity-toity eleven-year-old taste, or my hoity-toity twenty-year-old taste for that matter. I was convinced even finishing school had not finished my manners enough to leave the rugged city of Boston. I played the piano tolerably, read voraciously and danced prettily. My sewing and cooking left something to be desired, but my sense of fashion was better than the fashion experts of Boston. It would feel good to be home.  
  
I was so lost in my contemplation of life as it should have been that I never heard the old sailor approach. He was a muscular old fellow, with a terrible stooping back. His fuzzy gray beard twitched nervously as he spoke.  
  
"First time in England, lass?" His faint Irish accent made me smile. My mother was an Irishwoman.  
  
"No, sir," I responded. "I was born here and lived here for a while."  
  
"Well then! Welcome home, lass." He grinned a near-toothless grin. "Ye might be a-wishin' for a cloak soon, the wind's a-pickin' up." He smiled knowingly, patted my shoulder and shuffled on his way. A swift breeze caught the skirt of my traveling dress and tugged playfully at my light brown curls. I turned to thank the old sailor for the advice, but he had disappeared. I shoved my hands in the pockets of my dress as I turned to fetch my cloak from my cabin. My fingers closed round a tiny scrap of paper. Questioningly, I pulled the scrap from my pocket. I found a note written in a scrawling hand and signed with a tiny red flower.  
  
"Meet me at Blakeney Manor on the fourth of June. I will be in touch with you regarding when and where. Do not bring your cousin. If you doubt the sincerity of this notice, speak with Lord Hastings." I looked about me, wondering where the note could have come from. Across the deck the old sailor man reappeared. He caught my eye, winked, nodded, and vanished around the corner.  
  
"Wait!" I cried after him, but by the time I had rounded the corner he was gone. I folded the scrap of paper and tucked it back in my pocket. I would speak with Lord Hastings as soon as it was convenient. The fourth of June was tomorrow.  
  
As I disembarked from the great ship that I had spent far too many days on, I searched high and low for Adele. Her things were gone from the cabin we had shared, and she was nowhere to be seen. Monsieur Chauvelin had also disappeared. Concerned, I addressed the captain of the ship.  
  
"Captain Williams, have you seen my cousin Adele?"  
  
"She was loading her things into that French agent's carriage about fifteen minutes ago, Miss. They're long gone now. I woulda said something, but I figured you had separate plans once you reached England."  
  
"Do you know where the French agent was going Captain? It is very important that I find Adele." I tried not to let the panic in my voice. Adele could easily run off with Monsieur Chauvelin and we would never see her again. My uncle would never forgive me, and she would probably end up loosing her head on the guillotine for saying something rash.  
  
"My guess would be London, Miss. He's the representative to the English court, an ambassador if you will. He'll have business in London. Don't you worry, Miss, she'll turn up. French men in England are never hard to find, they all speak that god-forsaken language." With that assuring comment, the captain turned away to take care of his ship-ly duties, and I was left standing alone on the Dover coast.  
  
Slowly I made my way from the harbor to the heart of Dover. I was to meet Lord Tony Hastings at an inn called the Fisherman's Rest. My guess was to look on the main street of the town. If I couldn't find it, at least I would find someone who could point me in the right direction. Aimlessly I wandered down the streets of Dover, searching for The Fisherman's Rest. My eyes fastened above the doorways of each shop, I never saw the dandies who came piling out of bar.  
  
"Demmitall!" Cried the tall one in an interesting drawly voice. "Look what you've made me do Ffoulkes. I've nearly flattened this lovely young lady. Begging your pardon, Miss, I never saw you coming." The tall, gorgeous man was irreproachably dressed from his elegantly knotted cravat down to his shiny, heeled shoes. Although a little worse for the wear of alcohol, he seemed a good fellow, and he attempted to make a bow to me. His friends followed suit.  
  
"Sink me, Miss, but you seem a trifle disoriented," said the good- natured tall man. "Can we be of service to a damsel in distress?"  
  
"I'm looking for the Fisherman's Rest. Do you know of it?"  
  
"Odd's fish, m'dear!" Burst the tall man. "Everyone in England knows of the Fisherman's Rest. Why, I'm to meet my wife there." He paused. The liquor had obviously made him forgetful. "Damn!" He suddenly exclaimed, after checking his pocket-watch. "Marguerite is going to murder me!"  
  
His friends laughed uproariously. "Come, madam," he said, holding out his arm to me. "I shall escort you there myself."  
  
"Percy," said the most sober of the lot. He was a handsome man, with dark hair that curled at the tips and a high, noble brow. He had a slightly lop-sided smile, which gave his rugged face a slightly childish look. "We all need to be at the Fisherman's Rest. I am to meet Miss Watercourt and Miss Smythe there shortly."  
  
Surprised to hear my own name, I turned to the darkly handsome man who had spoken. "Are you Lord Hastings?" The man nodded and bowed slightly. "I am Miss Watercourt," I said, holding out my hand. Gallantly he took it and kissed it.  
  
"Miss Watercourt, I apologize for my friend's shameful behavior."  
  
Laughing, I shook my head. "There is no need to apologize. He has been a perfect gentleman."  
  
"But Miss Watercourt, where is Miss Smythe? I was under the impression that you would arrive together."  
  
"It is a distressing and long tale better told over dinner than in the cold streets of Dover," I said.  
  
"Forgive us again!" Lord Hastings smiled. He offered his arm and led me to the Fisherman's Rest, followed by a loud and rowdy crew. As we entered the inn, an exquisite woman with a mass of auburn curls and a petite blonde girl met us at the door. Lord Hastings hustled everyone inside for introductions.  
  
"Miss Watercourt, may I present Sir Percy Blakeney, baronet, and his lovely wife Marguerite." The tall, intoxicated man stepped forward, suddenly and fully sober. He offered his arm to the beautiful auburn- haired woman. I curtsied and Lord and Lady Blakeney returned the greeting.  
  
A smile toyed round Sir Percy's mouth, and his lazy eyes bespoke of good humor. Lady Blakeney was radiant and rushed to me to wrap me in a cheerful greeting.  
  
"Ma cher, forgive my foolish husband. Welcome to England! How lovely you are, and how sweet! You must be a regular guest in my home as often as possible." I thanked the sweet woman, but my eyes were fastened on Lord Blakeney. I threw him a questioning glance and I pulled the scrap of paper from my pocket, toying with it nonchalantly. Blakeney Manor, the note had said. The slightest nod of Sir Percy's head said everything I needed to know. I would call at Blakeney Manor on the morrow.  
  
One after another Lord Tony's friends were introduced. Sir Andrew Ffoulkes and his tiny blonde wife Suzanne were my next new acquaintances.  
  
"You may not recall, milord, but your sister and I were playfellows many years ago."  
  
"Please, call me Andrew," he said kindly. "I recall you, Miss Josie, with only the fondest of memories, we have many years to catch up on. Caroline will be delighted to see you."  
  
"As will Mary," interrupted another man. "Anthony Dewhurst, at your service Miss Josie."  
  
A few of Percy's other friends were introduced and then quickly departed. Once gone, our number was seven in all: the Blakeneys, the Ffoulkes', Lord Hastings, Lord Dewhurst and myself. We sat down around the table and the innkeeper, a cheerful man by the name of Jellyband, served us soup and bread and wine. I chatted gaily with Lady Blakeney and Lady Ffoulkes. Soon, the ladies retired and I sat to reminisce with the men about their sisters. Bernadette was married, Mary had joined a convent, and Caroline was a lady in waiting to the queen. We talked of days of play, our parents and the horrible things the boys used to do to us.  
  
"Miss Watercourt, I hope you do not find my question impertinent," began Lord Hastings. "Where is Miss Smythe? I am gravely concerned for my cousin."  
  
"Please," I sighed heavily. This was too important to keep up my silly charade. It would be easy enough to fool them tomorrow with my act when I wasn't so sleepy and pressing matters weren't calling. "Call me Josie. My formal name keeps me from feeling I am with friends." The men nodded. "I fear I have not kept my promise to Adele's father. When the ship stopped in Calais a new passenger by the name of Armand Chauvelin boarded, to make the short trip to England on business." I felt the gentlemen tense, and only Sir Percy seemed neither surprised nor distressed at my information. "My cousin is foolish; she believes in the philosophies behind the French Revolution, and supports the Reign of Terror with all of her being. She easily made friends with Monsieur Chauvelin, and was sorely angry with me for I'm afraid that I insulted him." I did not miss the twinkle in Sir Percy's eyes when I said this. This twinkle reminded me so strongly of the old sailor that I could not help notice the similarities between the two men. He must have been the old sailor on the ship this afternoon. How else could he have known about Adele and me? But why the charade? A rich, handsome, seemingly foolish man masquerading as a crippled sailor simply defied reason. Ignoring the thousand questions that flooded my mind, I continued my summary of Adele's disappearance. "I did not see her after the ship left Calais, and did not see her disembark at Dover. The captain told me he saw her leave the harbor with Monsieur Chauvelin. I fear her honor and mine have been compromised, and I dread the shame I must carry back to America." A single tear rolled down my cheek as the four men sat in gloomy silence. I could not meet Lord Hastings' gaze; my shame was over powering.  
  
"Never fear Josie. Percy, Tony, Andrew and I will do everything in our power to find my cousin and restore her to you. For now you should get some rest. Tomorrow we will be stopping at Sir Percy's house in Richmond for a few days. From there we will go to my father's lodgings in London. Hopefully, we will have heard from Miss Smythe by then. Goodnight Miss Josie." As I rose, my eyes met Sir Percy's and that slight, almost imperceptible nod, scarcely more than a blink, again reassured me. Exhausted, I curtsied to the four men and retired for the night, more curious than ever about Sir Percy Blakeney, his beautiful wife and our strange rendezvous at his home on the morrow.  
  
I could do nothing but gape at the immense mansion so humbly named Blakeney Manor. It was undoubtedly the largest house I had ever seen. The lawns were beautifully manicured, and house itself was to all appearances spotless. The windows shone in the early morning sun as our carriage drew up the stone path to the front door. A veritable army of servants greeted us. My things were hustled to my room, and I was escorted by a mob of ladies in waiting to my room to be scrubbed clean of the salty brine and dirt from my voyage. An eternity later I was hustled down to the dining hall to meet my new and old friends. I was polished to a high shine, and had been loaned one of Marguerite's afternoon dresses, as I had discovered last night Adele had absconded with not only all of her own things, but many of mine as well. The simple muslin frock tied with a purple sash was magically a perfect fit. My hair was, thankfully, un-powdered and my chestnut curls were left to fall simply about my shoulders.  
  
I blushed at the stares I got when I entered the room. I had firmly reattached the façade of the quiet, demure child that I had so quickly dropped last night in the face of Adele's disappearance. Girlishly, I dropped the appropriate curtsey, my face shyly to the floor, and moved insecurely to an empty chair. It was a marvelous fun act to play; I had been doing it since I was a child. This masquerade that protected the outspoken, intelligent girl I was; it is a shame that men are permitted to boast of their athletic and academic accomplishments, but women had to simply act like ninnies. I sensed slight confusion round the table. I silently reprimanded myself for having dropped the act so easily last night, but I knew it was going to be more amusing to have these silly dandies and their elegant wives try to figure me out.  
  
Demurely I ate the meal placed before me, mischievously glancing from behind my curls to view the faces of my hosts and hostesses. Sir Percy ate absentmindedly as he prattled on about the newest coat he had seen in Paris. Only once in his ramblings did he look my way, and when he did he gave me a most approving look and his eye twinkled merrily. Again, I was confronted with the thought that this man was a walking masquerade ball, and I could only imagine why. Lady Blakeney and Lady Ffoulkes chatted happily of fashion (it is to be noted that Lady Blakeney is the queen of English fashion for a reason, I wholeheartedly agree with her fashion common sense), and married life and housekeeping. They alternately tried to draw me into the conversation, but feigning shyness I was pardoned most graciously for my brief comments. Sir Andrew, Sir Anthony and Lord Tony were all quite taken in by Sir Percy's discourse, and paid me little attention at all. The three of them seemed to be the typical English dandies, and only Sir Percy's charade confused me. He obviously had a fine eye for clothing, horses and cricket, but I was convinced there was more to the man than first met the eye.  
  
As the dishes were cleared away, the Ffoulkes' prepared to leave. Lady Ffoulkes took a fond leave of Lady Blakeney, and then turned to me. In a faint French accent she paid me kindest attentions.  
  
"Miss Watercourt, I wish you all the best in the search for Miss Smythe. Please know you are welcome to my home at any time. Should you need any assistance, know that Andrew and I are more than willing to do all that we are able to do." In the friendliest of manners, she threw her tiny arms about me and kissed my cheeks affectionately.  
  
"Lady Ffoulkes, it is a great honor to be counted as one of your friends. I would ask only that you refer to me as Josie, and dispense with the formalities that I am so unaccustomed to. Thank you for your immense kindness." In mock shyness I reached to her and returned her farewell. Turning to Sir Andrew, I spoke again. "Sir Andrew, it would be a great pleasure for me if you may tell your sister how I am longing to see her again. Should she wish to contact me I shall be staying with Lord Hastings…" Lady Blakeney broke in at once.  
  
"Nonsense! You shall stay with Sir Percy and I. It simply wouldn't do for you to stay with Lord Tony. I absolutely insist you stay with us." Lord Hastings was about to interpose his own ideas of where I should stay, when Sir Percy called him away to look at a new horse.  
  
I allowed a natural pinkness to color my cheeks as I graciously curtsied to Lady Blakeney. "Lady Blakeney," I began.  
  
"Now, now. You must call me Marguerite and we are to be the best of friends." Sincerely she moved to my side and placed and petite hand upon my shoulder. "I insist, Josie, that you remain with us. I have reason to believe that we have much in common."  
  
I was prevented from further dissention when Sir Andrew and Lady Suzanne took their final leave. Sir Anthony Dewhurst was not far behind them, claiming he was needed at his father's estate. And in ten minutes' time I stood facing Lady Blakeney, Marguerite, rather awkwardly. I was proud of the act I had maintained during the morning and afternoon, but with the intuitive Marguerite my only company, and the mysterious Sir Percy not far away I knew the act would be more difficult than before.  
  
"Lady Blakeney," I began hesitantly.  
  
"Marguerite," she replied.  
  
"Marguerite," I acquiesced. "Your husband baffles me."  
  
Laughing gaily, she laced her arm through mine and led me up a grand staircase. "La, my dear, he does that to everyone. Would you like a tour?" she said, changing the subject that I was far from exhausting.  
  
I nodded absentmindedly as I slipped my free hand into the pocket of my borrowed dress. I started to find another slip of paper. Sensing my involuntary movement, Marguerite released my arm.  
  
"Go on. Read it. You'll find that in this house those little notes appear often."  
  
Library, two o'clock, read the note. The scrap of paper again was written in a scrawling hand, and signed with the tiniest of red flowers. I looked at Marguerite inquisitively. At that moment the hall clock chimed two. Pointing down a hallway to my left, she smiled.  
  
"The library is the second door on the left." With that she turned and disappeared.  
  
I found the library door slightly ajar, and a fire crackling cheerfully on the hearth, but the room was empty. I placed myself strategically so I could see the only two noticeable entrances into the room. I would not be caught off guard. I had stood there only a moment when I felt a strong hand upon my shoulder.  
  
I whirled round to find myself face to face with Sir Percy Blakeney and Lord Tony Hastings, who had entered through a previously hidden side door. They were smiling brightly, and Sir Percy led me, speechless, to a comfortable chair across from a massive desk. I opened my mouth to let the million questions pour out, but Sir Percy beat me to the punch.  
  
"Josie, we hope that we haven't frightened you. We have a few questions for you, and they are extremely important." The drawly voice was gone, as was the lazy look in his eye. Sir Percy Blakeney had finally dropped his mask. Out of respect, I brushed the crocodile tears of fear from my own eyes and assumed my real self. I sat taller in my chair, more at ease, and let the frightened rabbit look vanish from my eyes.  
  
"Ask away, Sir Percy," I said in a confident, business-like tone. He and Lord Tony smiled when they saw my own mask drop. Sir Percy looked to Lord Tony knowingly, with an almost "I-told-you-so" air.  
  
"I overheard your conversation with Adele and Chauvelin on the ship yesterday."  
  
"You were the old sailor, weren't you?" His eye sparkled the answer. "Bravo on your disguise, sir," I said, smiling. I was beginning to like Sir Percy very much. He nodded, and continued.  
  
"I need to know how much I can trust you, Josie. Are you true to the sentiments you expressed to Adele yesterday?"  
  
"Sir Percy, I am and always have been a royalist. Lord Tony will testify to the fact that I was raised among nobility. I believe in equality for all men, but I do not believe in regicide or the murder of hundreds of innocents for the sake of equality. My loyalty lies with the King of England, and I would give my life to save one innocent from the ravages of the French Revolution." I spoke calmly, but I could feel my insides shake as I spoke. My voice quivered with the patriotism that I was finally able to freely express, after nine years of living in an anti- monarchial society.  
  
Sir Percy smiled and Lord Tony could scarcely keep in a cry of "God save the King!" I heard him whisper it under his breath, and I looked at him. He smiled warmly, and I shall never forget that smile, ever so slightly lop-sided, and full of life. Turning again to Sir Percy, I tried to forget Lord Tony as I turned my mind to business.  
  
"I ask you this because I must let you in on the greatest secret in England, and I had to know if I could trust you." I nodded solemnly, but my mind cried 'intrigue!' My heart was racing. "Perhaps you have heard of the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel." I nodded; Adele had spoken of it shortly after she returned from France a year ago with her father. It was a group of Englishmen rescuing innocents from the guillotine and the terror of the revolution. "I am the Scarlet Pimpernel, and you have met some of the members of the League today. We have reason to believe that your cousin is in league with Citizen Chauvelin, and has met up with him in England to bring about our downfall. We need you to help us."  
  
I could scarcely keep myself in my skin. I now understood the reason for the charade; he was protecting the identity of the bravest, cleverest man in Europe. And now I was being asked for my help. I'm sure the look on my face must have been humorous, but Sir Percy only smiled. Lord Tony stood silently by, admiration for his friend written all over his handsome face. I gazed into Sir Percy's blue eyes reverently. "I'll do anything."  
  
"We know that Adele was in France a year ago," said Tony. "And we know that she met up with Armand Chauvelin at that time. We don't know what their plans are, but we know that it has something to do with the Scarlet Pimpernel. Beyond that, we know nothing. Percy and Andrew have seen the girl once, and the rest of us never. I am certain that Adele is part of Chauvelin's most recent devilry. Did she say anything to you about her plans for her time in England?"  
  
"Adele is as clever as she is vicious," I answered. "She kept talking about seeing her family. Finding old family heirlooms, getting married. The same things every silly girl talks about when going to Europe. I knew nothing of Monsieur Chauvelin until I met him yesterday on the ship. I did know that after her trip to France, Adele came back a revolutionary. Her father was in extreme consternation. He had tried to illustrate for her the evils of a revolution that had gotten out of hand, and instead she came home idolizing it. She told me very little of what she did in France, but spoke endlessly of the glorious revolution, and a little pest known only as the Scarlet Pimpernel." Percy grinned, and I smiled back. "I had no idea that she even knew Monsieur Chauvelin before yesterday. I may not be much help at all."  
  
"In a week there will be a ball at Lord Grenville's, it will mark the one year anniversary of Chauvelin's first attempt to destroy the League. We know he has something planned, and I believe that his plans will commence there." Percy thoughtfully got out of his seat and began pacing, thinking out loud as much as addressing Tony and me. "He knows he can't use Marguerite again, she won't be fooled by him anymore. He must have another way to get into the League. He has employed a beautiful woman…" His thoughts trailed off.  
  
"Armand," whispered Lord Tony. Percy and Tony's eyes met, and their faces froze.  
  
"Forgive us," said Lord Tony. "Armand St. Just is Lady Blakeney's younger brother. He is a devoted member of the League, but ever rash and impetuous. Adele may be used to gain Armand's confidence, and through him she would be able to discover the plans of the League."  
  
I nodded. "Adele has an uncanny knack for gaining people's confidence. No doubt Chauvelin has picked up on this ability, and will use it to benefit his own needs."  
  
"Once he's finished with her, she will be expendable." We turned to see Lady Blakeney, anger on her flushed face. "Curse him," she furiously spat.  
  
I went to her side. I thoroughly felt her womanly wrath. "Marguerite, I swear to you I will do everything in my power to protect your brother, your husband and your friends. I will kill Chauvelin if I have to." My fiery, impetuous temper had finally burst through, and Percy laughed, his inane laughter went bouncing off the walls of library.  
  
"Sink me, Tony, did I not say that women do not belong in the League for just that reason. They simply don't understand the sport of it." Marguerite shot him an angry look, and he grinned sheepishly. "Sorry m'dear," he said. "But, killing Chauvelin won't be necessary. He can't do a thing to us as long as we're on English soil. He's simply here to figure out what our plans our. That is simple enough, we don't have any."  
  
Marguerite, Tony and I gaped at him quizzically. "Please, Sir Percy, don't let my foolish cousin stop the activity of the League. Surely there are enough brains in the League to outwit Chauvelin and Adele."  
  
At this comment, Percy threw back his head and laughed, as I have never heard a man laugh before. "Gad, m'dear" he said between gasps for air and inane giggles. "Miss Adele has very little to with the League's activity, as does Monsieur Chauvelin for that matter. We don't stop for guillotines or storms or murdering devils, we certainly won't stop for a silly American girl. And my little wife's brains alone are enough to outwit the two of them. Perhaps I should clarify. What I meant was, should everyone believe that we have no plans, then there will be no plans. We do not tell Armand, or any more people than are necessary to carry out the rescue of the Marquis St. d'Artagnon and his family."  
  
"Armand will be sore for being left out," stated Marguerite.  
  
"Most of the League will be sore for being left out," returned Percy. "I believe that this rescue can be carried out with the four of us in this room."  
  
"Sir Percy," I began boldly. "That leaves only one margin of error. What if Armand is not Chauvelin's target? If Chauvelin is as clever as I understand him to be, may he not already be a step ahead of you. Perhaps he is expecting you to protect Armand, and maybe his target is someone else. You say you don't believe it is Marguerite. Perhaps it is you. Perhaps it is Lord Tony. Perhaps I am his target."  
  
Percy mused over this idea for a moment. "Then we must watch each other's backs. I cannot do this alone, and like you say, if I am the target, I will need help just as much as the next man. This conversation does not leave this room. Meetings held in this library are not repeated to a soul, not even another member of the League. From now on we must assume that anyone could betray us, wittingly or otherwise." Then Sir Percy turned to me. "I fear you may be our greatest threat."  
  
"Me? But I have already declared my loyalty to England and my desire to aid the persecuted. Do I need to declare my loyalty to the League? I will…"  
  
"It is nothing of that sort, Josie," Sir Percy cut me off. "Adele knows you, she has grown up with you. She knows every weakness, every strength, and she and Chauvelin may use you to get to Tony, or to me, or anyone. Believe me, my dear; Chauvelin already knows you are here. We were followed this morning from Dover. We must find a way to make Josephine Watercourt disappear, and create a new identity for you. And we must do it quickly. The Marquis isn't safe in France much longer."  
  
I nodded somberly. Sir Percy was right. It had to be obvious to all and sundry that Josephine Watercourt had returned to America, disheartened at the loss of her cousin. Or maybe… yes, perhaps that would work. I grinned.  
  
"Sir Percy?" He looked at me. "What if Josephine Watercourt vanished for good?" His quizzical glance made me laugh. "What if Josephine did something terribly drastic, something terrible, because she knew her honor was lost. Her cousin has run away, she's disgraced her family. She has no will to live…" I sniffed dramatically, and brought the mock tears back to my eyes. Oh, this was fun! "Don't you see? Suicide is her only choice." I burst into tears. The three of them stared at me. Marguerite began to laugh and applauded me.  
  
"Bravo! Josie, I haven't seen an act like that since I worked at the Comedie de Francais! Bravo!" She laughed her pretty girlish laugh, and finally the two men caught on.  
  
"Josie, don't you think that's a little drastic?" Asked Sir Percy, shaking his head.  
  
"I think its fun!" I cried, wiping away the fake tears.  
  
"I don't know, Josie. Is it believable?" Lord Tony met my gaze. I couldn't help but notice his beautiful brown eyes, so deep I could have easily gotten lost in them.  
  
"Hmmm?" I said absentmindedly. "Oh! I'm sorry. I don't know. No one here knows me but Adele; the key is to fool her."  
  
"You must go to the ball." Sir Percy began to protest, but Marguerite cut him short. "If you go, and can act as well as you have today, then everyone will believe."  
  
"We can't wait that long, Marguerite. We must leave that night for France. It simply can't wait. But Josie's death may be a perfect way to get her out of the picture quickly and easily." I chuckled; I simply couldn't help it. It sounded so funny!  
  
"And how do you propose to execute my demise?" Percy grinned at me.  
  
"I haven't gotten that far yet. Do you ride?"  
  
"Horses?" He nodded. "I do, but not well."  
  
"Perfect." Our gazes met and we nodded, smiling secretively.  
  
"Josie! Josie! Speak to me!" There I lay, not moving a muscle. Marguerite shrieked, and Percy coughed back his laughter. The League's doctor showed up momentarily, and I was pronounced dead at the scene. A reporter wrote a sweet obituary for me, and I could only hope Adele read it and wept, at least a little. And now, I was to vanish. Life couldn't be more fun.  
  
My secret identity was a fabulous creation of Marguerite's and mine: Katherine McKelley, Kitty for short. A Scottish girl, fabulously red- haired (thanks to Sir Percy's fantastic collection of make-up and wigs), which went well with my green eyes. I was finally able to be myself: fiery, tempestuous, intelligent and absolutely loveable. I was staying with Marguerite and Percy Blakeney, having met Lady Blakeney long ago. My father had sent me to a Parisian convent for school, and there I had met skinny, big-eyed, curly-haired Marguerite St. Just. I was a few years younger than her and had idolized her. I had seen her act two or three times, but after she met Percy and moved to England, I lost contact with her. After finishing school myself, I was returning to Ireland and had stopped for the night in Dover. It was there I had found myself face to face with Lady Blakeney. I had promptly been issued and invitation to her home, and had finally taken up the offer for a long visit. My visit came close upon the heels Miss Watercourt's tragic accident, and it was slightly uncomfortable at first. But Marguerite and I quickly renewed our old friendship. And such was Kitty McKelley.  
  
I loved my new personality, which was far more like myself than anyone realized, except maybe Percy and Tony. I was suddenly freed from the boundaries I had set around myself; I wasn't worried about pleasing anyone but myself. The plans were all set for the rescue of the Marquis d'Artagnon, and I was thrilled to be included.  
  
Only two days were left before the ball, and we had decided that Tony was to be my escort. I couldn't have been more thrilled. Staring in the mirror at the new me, I blushed thinking of him. I had to admit to myself I liked him. I liked him very much. I jumped when the door behind me opened. Marguerite stood in the doorway, followed by a mass of ladies. Their hands were full of make-up and gowns. After hours of fittings and make-up, we finally decided on lavender, in the new style Marguerite had introduced last year. The high waist and flowing skirt fit me well, and the fine lace about the low, square neckline and tiny cap sleeves lightly graced my bare skin, causing me to shiver. A diamond and amethyst diadem sparkled in my hair and a matching necklace glistened about my bare neck. Standing before the full-length mirror, I scarcely recognized myself. I could feel the anxiety rising as I slipped out of the gown.  
  
As the ladies cleared out and Marguerite kissed my cheek fondly and departed, I slipped back into the muslin frock I had been wearing earlier. Sitting at the elegant walnut writing desk that sat in front of the window, I fiddled absentmindedly with the letter opener as I wondered what Adele was doing. As much as I disliked her flighty, deceptive personality, she was my cousin, and we had spent the last nine years living like sisters. That moment there was a knock at my door, and I almost cut myself with the letter opener.  
  
"Come in," I said cheerfully, putting my melancholy thoughts behind me. Adele had chosen her path and I had chosen mine. Now we must face our futures. Turning, I saw one of Sir Percy's men in the doorway.  
  
"Miss McKelley, Sir Percy wished me to inform you that Lord Tony has arrived and he requests your company in the solarium."  
  
"Thank you, Brinker," I replied. I glanced in the mirror, gave my cheeks a pinch to bring the color out and carefully arranged the red curls about my face. I laughed to myself, what a girl will do for a man, I thought to myself. How silly!  
  
I entered the solarium to find Sir Percy and Lord Tony in a deep conversation about a certain boxer Sir Percy had seen yesterday when he went to the fights with the Prince of Wales. Marguerite sat coldly in an armchair across from a man decked in black and a young woman with dark hair arranged simply on her head. I gritted my teeth. It was Adele and Chauvelin; so the test was to come sooner than I expected. Sir Percy gave me a reassuring nod and Lord Tony flashed me one of his boyish smiles as I entered the room. I winked back as I moved to Marguerite's side.  
  
"Lady Blakeney," I said in a delicate Scottish accent I had been practicing since Josie had 'died', "Forgive my tardiness, I came as soon as Brinker gave me notice that you had visitors." Chauvelin rose from his seat, and Adele looked up at me.  
  
Marguerite smiled. "Miss McKelley, I would like to introduce you to an old acquaintance, Monsieur Armand Chauvelin, chief agent to the French Committee of Public Safety, ambassador to the English government. And this is Miss Adele Smythe; cousin of our friend Lord Tony, recently arrived from America. Miss Smythe, Monsieur Chauvelin, permit me to introduce Miss Katherine McKelley."  
  
Chauvelin performed the elaborate bows expected of him, and Adele curtsied, sadly. I laughed to myself, hoping Adele felt every ounce of remorse that she showed. I curtsied deeply.  
  
"Enchantee, monsieur," I said in perfect French. "I recently returned from France. It was a relief to me to leave, but I trust you miss your native country." I had decided days ago that I should treat Chauvelin with absolutely no regard whatsoever. It was an important part of Kitty McKelley. Turning to Miss Smythe, I softened just slightly. "Miss Smythe, my deepest sympathies regarding your cousin. I did not have the pleasure of meeting Miss Watercourt, but she must have been a bright and bonnie lass, for she seems to have made quite an impression on Lord Tony and Lord and Lady Blakeney. I am sorry for your loss." Tears welled up in Adele's pale blue eyes, and I tried desperately to read her actions. I was inclined to believe little of her behavior. Pretending to be naïve of the strained relations between my friends and Chauvelin, I prattled on merrily, finally able to give my brash, outspoken personality free reign.  
  
"Shall we have the pleasure of seeing you in a few days at the ball?" I asked.  
  
"Duty requires that I attend, Mademoiselle," intoned Chauvelin's dry voice.  
  
"Oh, I see" I said understandingly. "It must be difficult for you to come to a country that despises you so much, and to see a country happily thriving under a monarchy. And then, to see all those escaped émigrés! It cannot be an easy duty, monsieur." Sir Percy almost choked.  
  
"A citizen does not ask for the easiest duties, but the ones that will be serve his country." Chauvelin's eyes smoldered.  
  
"Citizen Chauvelin. Hmmm… that name sounds familiar. Oh! Aye! I remember. You were the man in the papers for hunting the Scarlet Pimpernel. Have you succeeded yet, monsieur? Oh I certainly hope not! I think him very brave and admirable. I wish I knew who he was."  
  
Chauvelin shot Sir Percy a hateful glance, probably wondering how much I knew. "I fear I'm not allowed to discuss my governmental duties with…" he paused. "Outsiders." He sneered at me. Unconcerned at his rising temper, I began to taunt him, probably a little more than I should have.  
  
"Well, let me tell you something, monsieurrr." I was talking faster and began rolling my r's, pretending excitement over the thought of the enigmatic Scarlet Pimpernel had made me forget my enunciation. "I am prrrrrobably morrre dangerrrous to the Pimperrrnel than you. You see, if I knew who he was, I should stop his trrrrips to Frrrrance."  
  
"And how would you propose to do that, Mademoiselle, since all of France has been tricked by that damned traitor." He was angry and I was excited.  
  
"Well, you see, Monsieurrrrr, it would be very easy! You must admit that one look at me would be enough to keep any man at home." I laughed gaily, and Sir Percy and Lord Tony joined in, unable to hold back their laughter, even for the sake of any form of propriety. Marguerite shot me a warning glance. Chauvelin made a type of growling noise in the back of his throat, a most unusual noise to be made by a man. More suited for a great beast, I thought.  
  
Turning to Lord Tony, Chauvelin bowed stiffly. "Monsieur, I have been honored by your hospitality, but now I'm afraid duty at the embassy calls. You will forgive my hasty departure?" Tony, recovering himself, returned the bow.  
  
"Of course. I'm sorry you could not stay longer. It was a pleasure to see you again, Monsieur. I trust we shall see each other again soon. Miss Smythe, would you care to take up residence with my family as your father wished or shall you return to the city with Monsieur Chauvelin?" The question was a pivotal one. If Adele stayed with Tony she became more dangerous, but easier to keep an eye on. If Adele went with Chauvelin, it was unknown what would happen to her or to us.  
  
"I believe I shall remain with Monsieur Chauvelin. I should hate to put you out m'lord."  
  
"Well then!" Cried Percy, patting Chauvelin on the back. "Until the ball then!"  
  
"Au revoir, Monsieur!" I called after Chauvelin as he left the room, returning to my dainty Scottish accent. "I shall look forward to seeing you on Friday! We shall have to chat more about that illusive Pimpernel! Goodbye, Miss Smythe. I shall hope to see more of you as well, dear!"  
  
Marguerite and I waited in silence until Percy and Tony returned. We all simply stared at each other. Then Percy began to laugh. His laughter rang throughout Blakeney Manor, and Tony easily joined him, and as their faces turned a bright shade of red, tears began to roll down their cheeks. Unfortunately, Marguerite was not as amused.  
  
"What on earth were you thinking?" She cried. "He is a very dangerous man, and he's more clever than you think. You must be more careful."  
  
"La!" I sang out. "How funny you are when you are serious Marguerite. He thinks I'm as dumb as a hole in the wall. I dare say he found me quite a wit too!" Percy had, at the onset of Marguerite's outburst halted his laughter, but it returned in full force.  
  
"Gad, m'dear, I'm afraid our little Scottish lass is quite right. You're simply worryin' too much for your own good. We're all quite safe, and our little lassie is doin' an exquisite job. It does seem to me she's quite pulled the wool over Mon-sue's eyes. In fact, this job may prove more amusin' than I had anticipated." His lazy, good-humored eyes met Marguerite's fiery ones and I saw fireworks were to be anticipated.  
  
"Lord Tony, would you do me the honor of a promenade about the garden?" Catching my broad meaning, Tony gallantly offered his arm to me. He bowed and I dropped a tiny, respectful curtsey as we left the room. Silently we crossed the great hall, he as unsure of himself as I was of myself. I grinned to myself.  
  
The Blakeney gardens are beautiful night and day, in any season. But they are exceptional in the mid-afternoon in early October. The hedges are shaped to perfection, the cobblestone paths are quaint, and I don't think fuller rosebushes could be found in all of England. There was not a cloud in the sky, or even the faintest hint of a breeze as Lord Tony and I entered the garden. Releasing his arm, I sat myself on a marble bench, next to a cherub statuette.  
  
"Did I say something I shouldn't have? I hope I haven't caused any trouble," I said with a worried glance at the house.  
  
"I don't think you need to worry about that," mused Tony. "But Marguerite is right about one thing. You need to be more careful. I know that we agreed Kitty could be lose-tongued and more outspoken than a typical girl, but she doesn't need to be purposefully insulting."  
  
I hung my head. I had provoked Chauvelin something terrible. I knew I shouldn't over play my part, or it would look like a sham.  
  
"But," said Tony with mischief in his voice, and his lips forming that endearing lop-sided smile. He reached out gently and tipped my head up so that I was no longer studying the cobblestone path, but his face. "I haven't seen Chauvelin so perturbed in a very long time. It was well worth the chuckle." He started to laugh, I began to giggle as well, thinking of nothing but that ridiculous growling sound Chauvelin made when he became so angry. Did he think he was some sort of animal? Perhaps he thought if he growled loud enough I would be scared into silence. I couldn't keep from laughing; it was all so funny! The Lord Grenville's ball was going to be a night to be remembered!  
  
Marguerite came to my room that afternoon as I was changing for dinner. "Kitty," she said, glancing hesitantly at the young girl styling my hair. We had agreed that I would not go by Josie whenever servants might be around, for their safety as well as ours.  
  
"Aye?"  
  
"I'm sorry about earlier. It was wrong of me to correct you. You are more than capable of taking care of yourself."  
  
"Margot, it is I who must ask forgiveness. It is so good to finally be able to speak my mind that I'm afraid I was carried away with the privilege. I need to remember that my words will effect others as well as myself." She moved next to me, and met my eyes in the mirror of the dressing table. Taking my hand, she squeezed it tightly, silently thanking me for my help. I gave her a look saying she did not need to thank me, and she smiled.  
  
"We'll talk tonight, Kitty," she said, and she quickly left the room.  
  
And talk we did. Marguerite poured everything out to me about Chauvelin and their relationship. She told me about the events of a year ago and how she and Percy had been estranged. She cried a little and told me that every night she prayed for the end of the revolution, not because of the innocents who died, but because there was so much strain in having a husband intent on saving the world. Then she confessed something she had not even told Suzanne or Percy. Marguerite was with child. She hadn't told Percy because she didn't want him to worry, and she didn't want him to stop rescuing people because of her.  
  
"Enough people have lost their lives because of my selfishness," she told me. "I couldn't bare it if my condition kept Percy home and more innocents lost their lives."  
  
I didn't know what to say to her. She had so often seemed much older and wiser than I, being six years my senior. Yet here she was, crying on my shoulder like a child, desperately needing my help. I stroked her hair late into the night letting her talk and cry, until she eventually cried herself to sleep. A thought crossed my mind, wondering why Percy did not come looking for her before he went to bed, but then I remembered there was a great rescue planned tomorrow after the ball, and he and Tony were sure to be busy in the library.  
  
Gently I slipped Marguerite's shoes from her feet. I took the pins out of her hair, and covered her with a coverlet. I slipped from my dinner gown into a dressing gown and took a pillow from the massive bed where Margot slept. I plopped myself on the settee in the corner and nestled the pillow beneath my fake red curls. Snuggling into my dressing gown, I shut my eyes and allowed visions of Tony Hastings to dance before my eyes. Soon, I was oblivious to the world.  
  
I awoke shortly before dawn, that time of day where there is the slightest hint of pink on the east horizon, and felt a slight chill. Looking to be sure Margot was well covered, I found her missing from the spot I had tucked her into last night. Getting up, I silently slipped two doors down the hall to Marguerite's room, but her bed was undisturbed. I grinned to myself, thinking Percy had come her and taken her to his own room. Blushing, I admonished myself for thinking such things, knowing that I should not be. I reentered my room, and noticed that the door to my balcony was open, no wonder there had been a chill. I did not remember opening it before I went to sleep, and I wondered if Marguerite could be outside. I slipped out onto the balcony, but Marguerite was not in sight. Instead, I found a rope ladder that trailed away into the bushes two stories below. I scanned the garden, but did not see any sign of Margot anywhere.  
  
Quickly I slipped on an old pair of stable boy's breeches and a shirt I had squirreled away for our rescue this weekend, and a pair of boots I had also borrowed from the servants' quarters. I climbed down the rope, hoping to find some sign of who had used the rope and where they had gone. Alas, all I found was a shred of fabric that belonged to Marguerite's gown, which had been torn off by the gate at the back of the garden that led out into the vast wooded grounds beyond the Blakeney gardens.  
  
I turned and fled to the house, running first to the library, hoping to find Percy or Tony there, sleeping after a long night of planning, but the library was cold, and the only signs of life were a few dying embers in the fireplace. Trying very hard not to panic, I took a deep breath. I knew it would be unconventional to simply go and pound on Tony's door, but what else could I do? I flew up the stairs to Tony's room. Taking a nervous, deep breath I pounded loudly on Tony's door, forgetting I was wearing a stable boy's costume. I heard a mumbling and bumbling about, until the door finally opened.  
  
There stood Lord Tony, his dressing gown only half fastened at the waist, exposing a muscular chest covered with dark curly hair. The hair on his head was sticking out bemusedly and there were pillow creases on his left cheek. I blushed and looked at the floor. He stared at my dirty breeches and wrinkled shirt, unabashedly confused. He rubbed his eyes and when he realized I was the one standing at his door at five in the morning, he hastily pulled his dressing gown closer about him.  
  
"What is it, Josie?" He mumbled, his sleepy tongue tripping over his words.  
  
"It's Marguerite," I said. "I think she's been kidnapped."  
  
Suddenly he was fully awake. Ignoring all propriety completely, he opened the door to his antechamber, and ushered me inside. He sat me in a chair next to the fire and lit a lamp on a table as I explained.  
  
"Marguerite fell asleep in my room last night. When I woke up about twenty minutes ago, she wasn't there. I went to make sure she was safely tucked in her own bed, but she wasn't there. I assumed she was with Percy and so I headed back to bed." I had, by now, completely forgotten the indecency of my late night visit. "When I got back to my room I realized the balcony door was open and when I went to shut the doors, I found a rope ladder dangling into the garden. So I climbed down the ladder and tried to find a trace of where the intruder had gone. All I found was this." I showed him the piece of cloth from Marguerite's dress that I had found snagged on the gate at the back of the garden.  
  
Silently, he stood there, simply staring at me. Without a word he turned and left the room, barefoot and clad in nothing but his dressing gown and… well… whatever he had on underneath. I sat there, staring into the fire, wondering at my predicament. A week ago, when I had arrived at Blakeney Manor, I would have never expected to find myself sitting in Lord Tony Hastings antechamber at five in the morning, let alone clad in a stable boy's breeches and boots.  
  
In five minutes Tony returned with Percy in tow. Percy had dressed himself, at least slightly, but his fair hair hung loosely about his shoulders, and his feet were bare. He was in no mood to stand about, so I took him to my room and showed him the rope ladder. Tony joined us, having finally been given five minutes to cover himself with more than a dressing gown. I handed Percy the fabric I had found, and the two men followed me down the rope ladder to where I had found the fragment of cloth. Percy's face looked like it had been chiseled out of rock, but his eyes smoldered. He turned on his heel and stormed into the manor, Tony and I running behind him to keep up.  
  
We followed him to the library. Once the three of us were in the door, Percy slammed the door with all the strength he possessed (and that is quite a bit of strength). The slam echoed from one end of the silent manor to the other. For a moment he didn't speak, and it was obvious he was trying to gain control of his emotions.  
  
"Why?" He said in a growling voice through gritted teeth. Then silence again reigned supreme in the library.  
  
"Percy?" I said meekly.  
  
"What?" I had never seen a human being so angry or so distraught as Percy Blakeney that night, and it frightened me.  
  
"I don't think Marguerite was the target." His fiery eyes met mine. "I think whoever has done this had targeted me."  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
"Marguerite was sleeping in my bed. It was pitch dark tonight; there was no moon. Your wife and I are about the same build, and we both have curly hair. Even if this person noticed his hostage had dark hair, perhaps he was looking for the brunette Josie, not the red-headed Kitty."  
  
"But common knowledge would tell anyone that Josie is dead."  
  
"But Chauvelin and Adele were here yesterday. What if my disguise wasn't good enough for Adele?"  
  
"Josie may be right," interjected Tony. "Adele seems like a shrewd little one, and if she was even slightly dissatisfied with Kitty's identity, there's no telling what she may have done." I nodded in agreement.  
  
"So what do we do?" Asked the desperate Percy.  
  
I looked at Tony, and he looked back at me. "Percy," he began. "You've always been the one to lead our expeditions. Don't you have a plan?"  
  
"For God's sake man! How on earth could I have a plan for such a thing?" Percy was pacing the library furiously; he hardly seemed to know where he was. Tony had a bewildered look on his face, as if without his leader he too was incapable of any action whatsoever. I turned to him and shook him for all I was worth.  
  
"For the love of God, Tony! What is the matter with you? Percy needs your help, and all you can do is stand there." He shook his head.  
  
"You don't understand, Josie, Percy plans everything. Even when he was in prison, he planned his own escape. All I do is follow orders. I don't know what to do." Percy was now pouring himself glass after glass of bourbon, and totally oblivious to Tony and me. "Heaven help us if I have to attempt to plan something."  
  
"Fine." I was spitting mad. Not at Percy, God knows I would be in the same state if I were in his shoes. But Tony was infuriating! "If you refuse to stand up and be a man, I'm going to have to do it for you."  
  
"Now wait just a minute, Josie. You don't know anything about London or England, you have no connections, you don't know who to contact or where to get help." I gritted my teeth. I remembered my father would use what he called reverse thinking on me to get me to do something I didn't think I could do or didn't want to do. Perhaps it would work on Tony too.  
  
"Well, if you won't do anything, I'm going to have to do it myself." He opened his mouth to protest. "Now, now. I understand if you don't know what to do, and aren't willing to try. New situations can be intimidating. Don't worry; no one will ever know that a woman was forced to lead the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel, because the second in command didn't know what to do. It would be such a terrible blow to your pride, so I promise to keep it to myself. Now, let me think, I could contact Sir Andrew. Perhaps he would be willing to help me."  
  
"You will do no such thing," roared Tony. "I am the second in command, and I have a plan."  
  
I smiled. "Good."  
  
"First, we must think of where they would have taken her."  
  
"No," I said shortly. He looked at me darkly. "We must think of where they would have taken me." I pulled up a chair next to Tony, who had sat himself behind Percy's massive desk. Percy, who had been relatively quiet until now, threw his tumbler against the marble fireplace, and turned to leave the room. Tony jumped up and locked the doors leading out of the library.  
  
Percy, with murder on his face, turned on Tony. I slipped from my chair, and went to Percy's side. I laid a hand on his arm, and forced him to look at me. "Percy, listen to me. Tony and I are going to need your help. You can't leave here now, because we need you. And you won't be able to help Marguerite by abandoning us. Go sit down over there and…Percy! Listen to me! Go sit down over there and think very hard about where you would look for me if I had been kidnapped."  
  
His face relaxed. "I'm sorry," he said harshly. "If I lose her I don't know what I shall do. She's all I have."  
  
"I know, I know," I said empathetically. "And that is why we need your help." I hated myself for talking to him like a child, but I didn't really know what else to do.  
  
"I would go to France," said Percy, almost out of the blue.  
  
"What was that?" Tony had swallowed at least three glasses of bourbon in rapid succession, but it didn't seem to have affected him yet.  
  
"France," said Percy again.  
  
"But why?" I asked. It didn't make much sense to me.  
  
"Because the three of us are the only people who know you exist. If he kidnapped you and you were only Kitty and no one else, no one would miss you but us. If he kidnapped you and you were actually Josie, again, no one would miss you but us. Keeping you in England would be dangerous, but once in France Chauvelin couldn't be stopped. Whether you were Kitty or Josie, he could do whatever he pleased to get information from you."  
  
"Then we must go to Dover," said Tony decidedly.  
  
"But what if Chauvelin discovers that he has Marguerite instead of me. Everyone would recognize her, and he may let her go," I said.  
  
"Then we must stay here to wait for her, in case she needs us," decided Percy, who was obviously hoping for the best.  
  
"But what if Chauvelin realizes it is Marguerite and he takes her to the Embassy in an attempt to destroy her credibility and yours. A situation like that would make it easy for him to turn her capture for his own good." Tony was right.  
  
"Then we must go to the embassy in London," I agreed right away.  
  
"Then we must split up," said Percy dismally. "I will go to London, Tony, you head for the embassy. Josie, you stay here and hope for the best."  
  
Instant protestations filled to room.  
  
"Percy, you can't go to Paris alone, he'll be waiting for you," insisted Tony.  
  
"I don't want to sit here and do nothing! I can't!" I wailed angrily.  
  
"STOP!" Cried Percy. "We're wasting time. Josie, you and Tony must go to London. Andrew is already in Dover, having returned last night from a trip to Calais. I shall take him with me to France. Now, is that agreeable?" His stony glare looked at Tony and I.  
  
"Percy?" I said meekly.  
  
"What?"  
  
"There is one other thing I thought of."  
  
"What?" His patience was running out.  
  
"Whoever did this went out through the back of your garden. There could be a trail, or perhaps Marguerite is out there somewhere, abandoned after the kidnapper realized that he had the wrong girl. And, we are going based on a lot of assumptions right now."  
  
"Assumptions are all we have at this point. But you're right. I'll send Frank out with a party of men to look for anything. Louise shall not move from the house until Marguerite it tucked safely back in bed where she belongs. Now, to London with you!" Three horses were saddled in record time, and we were off, wishing God speed to Percy on his way to France. 


End file.
